Work Text:
Although he will be forever grateful for the chance to say goodbye, it is one of the most painful things Vax has ever done. Even more painful than dying. At least that was quick. Unknowable until it was already done. This is full of tears and grief that the dead are usually spared.
Then the coldness filling his chest takes over and everything he is becomes the Champion of the Raven Queen. It is a few years before Vax realizes something is different—removed somehow. With each soul he ushers on, the gap separating Vax from the Champion grows. Eventually he realizes that even though he can look down and see his own hands, his own body, Vax’ildan Vessar is long dead.
But he’ll be damned if he ever lets even one member of his family move from life to death on their own. There is enough left of Vax to demand that.
---
The first time, it's not hard for Vax to regain control. It's his brother on that deathbed, surrounded by his sister and so many nieces and nephews that he will never get to know. Every member of his family by blood. When Vax reaches out to take Percy's hand, the elderly man—with the same snow-white hair—gives him a wry grin.
"It's good to see you again." His voice is still strong, even in his old age.
Then Percival de Rolo III takes one last look at his beloved family and follows the man he still trusts implicitly into whatever is waiting for him now.
---
Grog is next. It takes Vax a little while longer this time. The being standing in front of Grog is not anything like what he remembers, he feels too other. Not someone you would have a prank war spanning years with. But even in death, Grog is still Grog, so he breaks the silence with some off-color joke that doesn't entirely make sense. The ancient being cracks a smile and in the next instant, a half-elf's laugh rings out. Grog recognizes him now. The two of them walk on together, swapping jokes.
---
Seeing Vex die is not easy, not even after so many decades of life. The Raven Queen’s Champion melts away almost immediately, Vax pulling his sister in for a hug. They stay like that for a while, just holding onto each other after years of being apart.
"You look old." It feels strange to speak again.
Vex smiles broadly at him. "I guess you're not the oldest anymore."
She touches her forehead to his, closing her eyes. Then Lady Vex'ahlia of Whitestone steps back and gives him a single nod. She is ready. He grabs her hand, squeezing it lightly, and leads her on into the light.
---
Scanlan passes away, and Vax'ildan has been the Raven Queen's Champion over three times longer than he ever drew breath. He is buried deep within. The bard lived to a ripe old age, surrounded by children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren when he takes his last breath. And Pike.
The Champion just stands above Scanlan at first, waiting for him to follow. Scanlan smiles broadly at his old friend and sings him a song. An old song—one that the gnome wrote a lifetime ago—about a young half-elf who defeated a great evil, giving up his life for his family in the process. Tears begin to form in the Champion's eyes as he remembers who he is. Vax takes Scanlan into the next life, singing a drinking song together as they go.
---
Then it's Pike. Pike Trickfoot, whose faith gave Vax'ildan the strength he needed to take up the mantle to begin with. The Champion of the Raven Queen waits until after her funeral, a beautiful celebration in the shining temple of Sarenrae. Something deep within the Champion's chest insists she had more than earned that closure. When the cleric eventually stands next to him, her head barely reaching his waist, she takes his hand. It doesn't seem to bother Pike that the hand is ice cold, so far removed from what she remembered. As one last gift from her goddess, the soft, divine glow of Sarenrae travels from her hand to his. It moves up his arm, swirling and shining, before finally gathering in his heart. That familiar warmth thaws the icy exterior of the Champion, and he looks down with shining eyes.
"Hello, Pickle". Vax lowers to one knee, his dark wings fanning out behind him. Pike brings her hands up to his face.
"Are you ready to take your place on the Island of Renewal?" Vax's voice is quiet, but confident. He is long done with crisis of faith. Pike nods and they pass into golden light together.
---
Centuries pass. A millennium. And, finally, Keyleth of the Air Ashari, the Voice of the Tempest, breathes her last. When she looks down at her spirit, she is surprised to see the hands and body of a young woman. The age she was when she lost the half-elf now standing before her.
He looks the same. The same lithe form, pale skin, dark hair, and handsome face. But it's the eyes that tell Keyleth she is not looking at the same person. Vax's brown eyes were always warm, expressive. Whether they were shining with laughter or tears, Keyleth always felt at home when she looked into Vax's eyes. This being has none of that. His eyes are cold and impossibly ancient. The young woman who had lost Vax would have been paralyzed, unable to even look at the Champion of the Raven Queen. But the Voice of the Tempest knows what it was like to be ancient. She walks up to him and softly touches his face.
"Vax'ildan." If his name comes out more like a prayer, there is no one else around to know. "I have waited a long time to see you again." Keyleth looks unwaveringly into those impassive eyes, willing him to know her. She has not lived over a thousand years to be denied this moment.
Eventually—after minutes stretched achingly long—his brown eyes change, the warmth and love coming back into them like a summer breeze.
"Kiki." His voice cracks when he murmurs her name. Vax takes her tightly into his arms, his wings wrapping around the both of them. She can hear him softly crying, his face buried in her hair. For the first time in far too long, Keyleth feels at home again.
They stand there for a moment, saying nothing. Then Vax steps back, tears streaking down his face. Keyleth raises her hands to wipe them away.
"Are you ready to go on to whatever is next?" His voice is soft, loving. The same voice that she has heard in her dreams for hundreds of years. Keyleth lets her hands slip down to hold his own. Every callus is the same. Just as she remembers.
"I think I will stay with you. Until she has deemed your debt paid."
"I'm not sure if she will allow that."
It was the Voice of the Tempest that spoke next, a thousand years’ worth of power crackling through her words like lightning.
"I'd like to see her try to stop me."